


we've already danced tonight

by astano



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 16:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astano/pseuds/astano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At this point, Santana's used to being hit on by customers, it's part of the job, and she never really takes it very seriously, but this one, somehow she's different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've already danced tonight

Santana doesn’t see any reason to be modest, she gets a lot of phone numbers whenever it’s her night to dance in the cage. _A lot_. She usually smiles politely, maybe winks if the girl is cute, and says she isn't really supposed to date customers, but she would have loved to have given them a call otherwise.

This one, though, this one is different. She’s hot and she seems to know it. Her confidence radiates from her in a way that causes Santana to notice her even before she's been approached. The writing mass of bodies on the dance floor seem to just part for her as she moves, and she draws a few of them towards her, dancing with them for a few beats until she pushes them almost roughly away and moves on to the next girl.

When she finally approaches Santana, her blonde hair is sticking lightly to her forehead in places, and there’s a slight flush to her face that seems to be more from the exertion of dancing rather than through intoxication.

"I'm Cassie," she says, her eyes moving languidly over Santana's body. The appreciation in her gaze is not unpleasant, and Santana relaxes back against the bar, letting her own gaze take in Cassie’s form. 

“Santana,” she replies.

"You were pretty good up there." Santana smiles. She knows she was, but it’s still nice to be told. Her mouth opens, ready to say thank you, but then Cassie continues, "You could be better."

"Oh, yeah?” She says, eyes narrowing a little. “I didn't see anyone complaining."

Cassie shrugs, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smirk. And it shouldn't be hot. It really shouldn't. _Especially_ after she’s just been insulted. Or at least she thinks she’s been insulted. Still, when Cassie says, "Give me a call sometime, I could teach you a thing or two," and hands Santana what looks to be a business card, Santana finds herself pocketing it almost without thinking.

~

She forgets about the woman after a few days. Yeah, she was hot as hell, and Santana had definitely been at least a little interested, but she was just another face in an endless stream of faces, and sometimes it’s easy to forget, especially when you have two roommates browbeating you about how you’re letting go of your dreams and you need to focus on the important things in life.

Apparently getting laid isn’t important. Which _really_ explains a thing or two.

~

So, the last thing she ever expects is to see the woman walk into her third dance class, looking like she owns the place, and quickly managing to gain the attention of the entire group with a series of sharp claps.

“Alright, people,” she says, “I’m Cassandra July. Linda’s out sick, so I’ll be standing in for her this week.”

There are a few murmurs around Santana, but she ignores them, wondering instead if Cassie remembers her. If she even _wants_ Cassie to remember her.

They get set up along the barre with a series of moves to warm up, and Santana’s just about come to the conclusion that Cassie does not, in fact, remember her, when she feels someone step close to her, and a voice speaking lowly in her ear. “You didn’t call,” she says. “Though I see you decided to follow my advice. Although I’m not sure how far ballet will get you in your line of work.”

Santana’s eyes narrow, and she lets out a slow breath, trying to calm the sudden rush of irritation that bubbled up inside her at Cassie’s words. The woman might be stupidly attractive, but it seems she can’t open her mouth without saying something offensive. “I don’t think why I’m here is really any of your business,” she says.

Cassie chuckles. “You’re right,” she says. Her fingers press against the base of Santana’s spine as she speaks, and, despite her irritation, Santana suppresses a shiver at the touch. “Remember to keep your back straight,” she says, louder now, and Santana nods, but all she can concentrate on is the warmth of Cassie’s fingers seeping through the thin material of her top, and how she hates the twist in her stomach, the sharp stab of _want_ that curls inside of her when those fingers curve lightly over her hip as Cassie walks away.

~

When Linda’s back for their next class, Santana tries to pretend she isn’t disappointed.

~

She still doesn’t call, even though she’s kept Cassie’s number and sometimes pulls it out of her purse just to look at it for a few seconds. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the woman. It’s annoying, really, because she was a _bitch_ , but there’s just something about her that Santana can’t deny she likes, and it’s not just that she’s more attractive than anyone has a right to be.

She wonders, just briefly, if it’s because Cassie kind of reminds her of Brittany, but really, except for the blonde hair and the dancing, they’re absolutely nothing alike.

~

It doesn’t really surprise her when, a few days later, Cassie turns up at the bar again.

She’s on her break, getting a few minutes of fresh air out the back of the bar. She’d seen Cassie earlier, out on the dance floor, so she’s almost expecting it when the woman pushes through the fire door about thirty seconds behind her.

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” she says, kicking out from the walk she’s leaning against and taking a couple of steps forwards. “Staff only.”

“Are you going to tell?” Santana shakes her head, because no, she’s not, but at least she made an attempt at protesting, should anyone ask. “I didn’t think so.”

Cassie walks slowly towards her, all swaying hips and seductiveness, and when they’re close, Santana allows herself to be walked back, until she’s pressed once more against the wall. She can’t quite believe she’s letting this happen, but she can’t seem to stop herself—doesn’t really _want_ to—and when Cassie’s fingers reach for her chin, tilting her face, she stretches upwards, meeting Cassie halfway.

Cassie kisses Santana slowly, deliberately, like they’ve got all the time in the world, when in reality, they have about fifteen minutes before Santana needs to be back inside. She can feel herself starting to get wet already, though, encouraged by the swipe of Cassie’s tongue into her mouth and the warm feeling of their bodies pressed together. She’d never admit it, but fifteen minutes is probably going to be more than enough time.

Seconds later, Cassie’s mouth is trailing hot and wet against her jaw, biting at her neck, and Santana groans. She almost gasps out an order for Cassie not to leave a mark, that she’s supposed to be working, but it’s dark in the bar, no one will be able to see, and honestly, it feels too good to even think about telling Cassie to stop.

It’s been far too long since she’s had anyone touch her like this—not since Quinn at the wedding—and she lives in an apartment with no damn walls, and a Rachel Berry approved bathroom schedule that leaves no time for any relief in there, so she thinks she can be forgiven for the way she’s already arching out from the wall, encouraging the slide of Cassie’s palms over her ass with little whimpers she can’t quite contain.

“You should have called me,” Cassie says roughly, then bears down again, teeth scraping against the line of Santana’s neck. Santana grunts, fingers flexing against Cassie’s hips as she tips her head to the side, letting Cassie’s mouth suck wetly against her for a few seconds. “I have an apartment. A _bed_.”

“I have those, too,” Santana replies, then grunts again when Cassie nips at her in retaliation. “Maybe I just didn’t want to call. You ever think about that?”

“No.”

Of course she didn’t.

Santana would say something else, _wants_ to say something else, but Cassie’s kissing her again, and there’s a thigh sliding up between her own, and when it presses against her, she can’t really do much but moan and rock down.

It’s getting out of hand, how quickly Cassie’s working her up, and she needs to do something to take her mind off how fucking amazing the slow push and pull of Cassie’s thigh feels—how close she is to coming already. Reaching out blindly, she feels for the hem of Cassie’s dress, pushing up roughly when she finds it and searching for the band of Cassie’s panties.

Her fingers slip inside, and she’s surprised, but not at all displeased, to find Cassie’s just as wet as she is. It’s awkward, like this, to do much more than slide haphazardly against Cassie’s clit, but it’s enough for Santana to hear a slight hitch in Cassie’s breath.

She smiles into the kiss, because it’s good to know she’s not the only one who’s about to lose control, and rubs lightly. Cassie’s hips unashamedly chase out the movement of her fingers, and soon they’re both breathless, too far gone to continue a kiss that had long ago gone sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Harder,” Cassie demands, and Santana does her best to comply, drawing tighter circles over Cassie’s clit, pressing the pads of her fingers down with a little more force. Cassie in turn grips Santana’s ass more firmly, tensing her thigh and helping Santana work herself faster.

The friction feels amazing, and she can’t quite believe she’s going to come like this—humping an almost-stranger’s leg in the back alley of her work—but she’s so close, and the breathless noises Cassie’s letting out every few seconds really aren’t helping her control any.

It only takes another few desperate thrusts until she can’t take it anymore, and she’s coming hard, jerking almost violently against Cassie’s thigh, and only just remembering to stifle the sound of her release with the back of her free hand.

She thinks Cassie comes, too—there’s a sharp cry that’s cut off almost as soon as it begins by teeth sinking into her shoulder, and Cassie’s fingers closing tight around her wrist, holding her in place—but she’s too far gone, still shaking from her own pleasure, to be sure.

~

They don’t even have time to recover before the loud clang of the fire door opening startles them both and they jump apart, straightening their clothes and trying not to look like they were doing anything they shouldn’t.

“Hey, Santana! Your break was over five minutes ago.”

Well, at least it isn’t her boss come to find her. Santana nods to to the girl. “Sorry,” she says. “I’m coming.”

The look she gets at her choice of words lets her know that despite their efforts to look casual, it was totally obvious what they’d been doing, and she feels her cheeks heat up. “Sorry,” she says again, but the girl just rolls her eyes and lets the door close behind her.

~

When she’s sure she looks at least semi-presentable, she heads back inside, Cassie following a couple of steps behind. She doesn’t really know what to say now, and is kind of glad the noise of the bar, and the fact she’s late back to work, mean they can’t really talk.

It doesn’t seem to matter though, because all Cassie does is press another business card into her hand and say, “Just in case you lost the first one,” then she’s winding her way through the throng of people and out of the bar without ever even looking back.


End file.
